


Fangs and Ink

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [121]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avenger Reader (Marvel), Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Public Display of Affection, Reader-Insert, Recovery, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25499836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: When you were younger, you got a tattoo as a way to get over the abuse in your past. You never thought about how Loki would someday react to it. (Implications of past abuse, but nothing graphic/explicit.)
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [121]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 10
Kudos: 228





	Fangs and Ink

**Author's Note:**

> The reader in this one also has an abusive relationship in her/their backstory. It kind of shapes this story but like with the reader from Time and Space, there is no explicit depiction of the abuse, if that's something you try to avoid.

Loki was obsessed. Utterly enthralled. When you’d stepped into that tattoo shop all those years ago, ready to do whatever you could in order to change your body into something other than what your shitty ex had made it, you hadn’t spared a thought to what a mythical god might think of your tattoo. You hadn’t even really bothered to think about what anyone else would think of the tattoo. It was a way to reclaim your skin. He’d spent so long pressing his marks into it that you figured it was your turn to make some of your own. So you’d saved up as much money as you could and went to the shop with the best reviews and asked them to wrap a snake around your upper thigh. 

You liked that it wasn’t always visible. In fact, it was almost always hidden. No one else really needed to know what you’d been through, after all, and the few times that anyone saw it, it always sparked a conversation. People had you pegged as someone with flower tattoos, or hearts, not a large green snake with venom dripping from its fangs. Sometimes you thought of it as your protector. If someone got through all of your layers of clothing, you could usually judge them based on their reaction. One guy was shocked and horrified by it. He’d practically glared at it, and then demanded to know why you’d ruined your body with something like that. It wasn’t hard to send him packing, even though you shuddered the rest of the night every time you realized that you’d let him get so close. 

The knowledge that you were someone with _that_ kind of tattoo made you feel a little stronger. It kept you from shrinking into yourself when the battered part of your brain wanted nothing more than to hide. It kept your back straight when you met the Avengers and when you trained beside them in the gym. It made you fight harder when you were in the field. Maybe it was that strength that caught Loki’s eye first, but he started circling you, reaching out in the most nonchalant ways that he could, testing to see if you shared any interest. 

And you did.

He was brilliant. You loved talking to him about the state of things on Earth, and listening to what he shared about his home. You loved discussing books with him: literature and history and poetry and science. He was so smart, but he never made you feel like you were less-than. If anything, any time you revealed that you didn’t understand something, his eyes would flash and he would sit forward a bit so that he could explain it to you. There wasn’t a lot that you had the pleasure of explaining to him, but he did listen with rapt attention on the rare occasion that you shared some of your history with him. 

It was hard to know exactly what possessed you to tell him That Story one night. It was late, and the Tower was silent around you. You were just sleepy enough to be not-so-inhibited any more, and you’d already been comparing Midgardian and Asgardian fighting styles. So you let it slip that you took up self-defense after your ex cornered you at the front door to your apartment. You’d been so young, and all alone in the great big city, and he’d forced you inside and all the way up to your apartment. The whole time he was there, you were convinced that he was going to kill you, and your desperate brain tried to run through all the various tips on self-defense that you’d seen online, but fear had frozen you solid. 

One of your neighbors had seen your door ajar, had heard him roaring at you inside, and had found a way to send him scurrying back into the darkness. The very next morning, you found a class that fit into your schedule and threw yourself into it— _hard_. A few weeks after that, you decided to start saving up for your tattoo.

Loki was horrified at the story, of course, but you greatly appreciated the change in his expression when you mentioned the tattoo. People were always angry on your behalf when you told them the first part of That Story. They always asked after you and swore revenge on the man and made the whole story about their feelings instead of yours. But you saw the way Loki’s eyes roved your body, like they were searching for any clue about where the tattoo could be. You let him suffer for a little while. You told him how hard those first few classes were, and how useless you felt until your muscles grew accustomed to the training. 

He did not stop eyeing you. Eventually, you laughed and took pity on him, asking what exactly was on his mind.

“Where is it?” You told yourself that, if he sounded at all affected by your revelation, it was only because of his natural curiosity. “Your tattoo? Can I see it?”

The idea of that gave you chills—but...pleasant ones. You did not attempt to hide your smile, though you did lower your eyes away from his face. “It’s somewhere...a little private. I’ll have to get to know you a little better before I show it to you.”

And his eyes had flashed at you once again.

The night that he did finally get to see your tattoo—and the rest of you—it was like there was a fire under your skin. You’d spent the night at one of Tony’s galas, dressed in a beautiful silky gown and dancing with Loki, who wore an expensive suit and intoxicating cologne. That night was not the first time you’d kissed him, though it _was_ the first time you’d kissed him in public. You’d found a little space to yourself off to one side of the ballroom and lost yourself in his lips, in his touch. 

When he invited you back to his room, you accepted the invitation gracefully.

You undressed each other slowly. You kept your dress on until the last minute, and you watched him when he finally caught sight of the tattoo. He’d groaned low in his throat and looked at you for permission before reaching out to brush his fingers along the image. His reaction was the one you’d been waiting for. He touched you reverently, kissed you sweetly, sank his teeth into you like he needed more.

And he didn’t stop. When the two of you had finally exhausted yourselves together, you laid against him with your leg slung over his. His hand went back to your skin, back to your tattoo, and he traced the scales of your snake like he could feel them. Sleepily, you’d revealed to him that the snake was part of how you decided who was worthy, and then tightened your arm around him when he laughed in disbelief.

Now that he was in on the secret, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Even when you were fully-covered in jeans or leggings or your suit, his hands often found their way to your thigh. The teammates who didn’t see the two of you at the gala, they quickly figured it out with the way that he was touching you. And...that was all. No one made a big deal out of the relationship. No one gave you a hard time or teased you any more than usual. But, even better, it was like they started to look at Loki with new eyes. He told you, often, that he didn’t care if they never thought of him as a teammate, but you also saw the begrudging pleasure in his eyes when Tony started talking to him more, or when Steve and Bucky invited him to go running in the morning. 

And at night, when the two of you stretched out together in your bed or in his, his hand continued to seek out your thigh. Gentle fingertips played against your skin even as he kissed your forehead, or your hairline, or the side of your neck. His touch never stopped giving you those pleasant chills. He never stopped looking at you with that tenderness in his eyes.


End file.
